#they REVERSED it to be the white house shutting down contact? and made ellen way less supportive

[titsthedamnseason]

umm they wrote the leak so messy i’m pretty upset rn

[pinknerdpanda]

The Wedding Singer - Track 11

“Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?”

Characters: Reader, Ellen, Bobby, Lisa, Dean & Ketch (mentioned)

Word Count: 1,760

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language, Mentions of Infidelity, Alcohol

A/N: This is the 11th chapter of an AU SPN Series co-written by myself and @hannahindie entitled The Wedding Singer and is inspired by the movie. We have been working on this for the last few months and are very excited to share it with you. The series tag list is open. If you would like to be added, please send one of us an ask. Hannah made our beautiful aesthetic and the series was Masterbeta’d by @wheresthekillswitch.

Track List

Track 11: “Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?”

The first beams of morning sun flickered through the window and across the floor, dancing happily as though the night before had never happened. Y/n watched them sway to and fro, their steps choreographed by the thin tree branches just outside the window as they rustled softly in the breeze. She frowned and rolled over. Stupid tree. Stupid sunlight. Stupid everything.

Even the sound the alarm made as it began it’s morning assault was too chipper for her liking. She grunted and slammed her hand down on the clock, silencing the sound and knocking it off her nightstand. She sat up and punched her pillow, wincing in pain and reminding her of the last thing she punched. Dean.

His face flashed through her mind and she groaned as her stomach somersaulted at the thought.  None of this made sense. It was like up was down and black was white. Dean shouldn’t be making her feel like she’d swallowed a thousand butterflies that were all trying to make their grand escape. She should be furious at him. In a way she was - he’d shown up out of nowhere and made her feel things she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing. And that was before he’d kissed her. That kiss, though!

She jerked the blanket over her head trying to hide from the memory. Instead, the large diamond on her finger caught in the fibers and she yanked her hand back. Instead of untangling herself from the blanket, however, she wound up pulling the thread, creating a large loop and marring the surface of the fabric.

“Motherfucker!” She cried out, ripping the blanket off of herself and turning over so violently, she ended up falling over the side and hitting the floor with a thud.

As she laid there, sprawled across her floor in front of bed, she sighed, unable to force herself to feel anything at all. Between spending the entirety of the night before tossing and turning and the unending barrage of various emotions over the past few days, she was drained; Physically, emotionally, spiritually. So she laid, her cheek pressed against the hardwood of the floor, her eyes fixed on a speck of dust clinging desperately to a long lost sock just under her bed. “I really should clean under here more often,” she thought out loud.

She heard a soft knock seconds before the squeak of her door cracking open. She didn’t bother turning to see who it was.

“Y/n?” Aunt Ellen’s voice was tentative. “Honey, is everything alright?”

“Yep, everything’s just dandy,” y/n mumbled, her words muffled by her mouth’s proximity to the floor. “Never better.”

Ellen slipped into the room and closed the door behind her before moving to sit on the floor next to her niece’s head. She crossed her ankles and wrapped her arms around her bent legs, clasping her fingers together and resting her chin on one knee.

She sighed, “You wanna talk about it?”

Y/n focused hard on the wayward sock and contemplated the symbiotic connection it shared with its dusty companion. Neither the sock nor the speck seemed to appreciate the bond they shared, hidden away from the public’s eye.

“I’m not completely sure,” she said finally, pausing in an attempt to reverse the drop of drool threatening to pool under her smushed lips. “But I think when someone starts to feel jealous of a sock, it’s what some might call ‘a new low’.”

“Sweetie, you know I love you,” Ellen frowned. “But I don’t have a damn clue what the hell you are saying.”

Y/n rolled onto her back, tipping her chin toward the ceiling to look at the upside down image of her aunt and sighed. “I don’t know Aunt Ellen. It just seems like lately my life has been spinning out of control.”

Ellen lifted one eyebrow, her eyes gentle. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Dean Winchester, would it?”

Y/n pulled herself up and turned to face Ellen, her eyes now glued on her own hands as she picked mindlessly at her thumbnail. “I punched him, Aunt Ellen.”

Ellen barked a laugh, and clapped one hand over her mouth. “Sorry, it’s not funny, but that was not was I was expecting. What did that boy do to deserve that?”

“Ketch was meeting a client last night at a bar and apparently ran into Dean there. I guess something happened, because Ketch came home with a broken nose. And just with everything that’s happened over the last few days, I just, I dunno, I lost it.”

“So let me get this straight, your fiance got his nose broken in a bar fight and sent you in as his attack dog?”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” y/n chewed on her lip. “I didn’t go over there planning to hit him. But then he brought up the times we kissed and-”

“Times, y/n?” Ellen narrowed her eyes. “It happened more than once?”

Y/n’s face flared with heat, embarrassment rising up in her throat. “Twice.” Her voice was soft.

“Ok.” Ellen pursed her lips and waited for her to continue.

“Anyway, Dean said that Ketch wasn’t there meeting a client or business partner, but that he was there with Lisa and that they were a little too comfortable.”

Ellen gasped, anger burning in her eyes. “Lisa and Ketch?! That son of a bitch, I…”

Y/n cut her off. “I thought he was just being a jealous asshole, so I hit him. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’m afraid…” her voice broke and she clenched her eyes shut tight trying to keep the tears from falling. She took a deep breath and continued, this time her voice barely above a whisper. “What if Dean was right?”

Ellen shifted to throw an arm around y/n who melted against her. She stroked her hair gently as her body shook with silent sobs. “Honey, I have known that boy since he was a snot nosed, bratty little kid. And while there are many things someone might call Dean Winchester, ‘liar’ is not one of them. If he says he saw something, I wouldn’t hesitate to believe him.” The silent sobs blossomed into hoarse, broken cries as y/n clutched onto Ellen. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

After what seemed like hours, y/n sniffed for the last time and sat up. She dabbed at her eyes with the cuffs of her nightshirt.

“Listen, I have never been one to pry into your life or make snap judgements about people, but honey, I never liked that British pansy.”

Now it was y/n’s turn to chuckle in surprise. One side of Ellen’s mouth turned up in a half smile. She went on.

“Dean is a good man. He’s been through a lot lately and I can’t say I agree with all of his choices,” she paused, looking at y/n pointedly, “but it sounds to me, like you two need to have a talk and figure out just what the hell is going on.”

Y/n nodded.

“You just remember that you don’t have to let life drag you around by your pigtails. You just need to put on your big girl panties, decide what you want and make it happen. You are in control of your life. Not the other way around.”

Bobby’s voice carried up the stairs and through the closed doors. “Good god almighty woman, aren’t you ready to go yet?”

Ellen rolled her eyes and shouted loud enough for Bobby to hear her loud and clear. “Bobby Singer, you keep your damn mouth shut and be patient. I will be down when I am ready.” She turned to Y/n, her voice softer now “And I don’t care how much money he does or doesn’t make, you don’t let any man tell you what to do.” She winked at her niece.

Y/n smiled and hugged the older woman. “Thank you, Aunt Ellen.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

-----

Y/n flipped down the visor on her mirror and checked her reflection. She took a deep breath and leveled her shoulders. She glanced toward the house and tried to ignore the rock in her stomach doing the Cha Cha Slide. She’d tried to call Ketch half a dozen or more times on her way over, but after the fourth voicemail, she’d given up.

She had all but decided that whatever happened with Ketch the night before didn’t really matter to her as much as what she’d done to Dean. It was freeing in a way, to allow herself to admit the one thing that she had been trying to deny for the last three weeks: she cared about him. In the few short weeks of knowing Dean, she’d felt every emotion she thought herself capable of more intensely than anything she’d felt with Ketch for years.

“Stop stalling and just go talk to him,” she told her reflection. She sighed, flipped the visor back in place, opened the door and climbed out. Her legs felt wobbly as she made her way across the street and up the sidewalk. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt at the moment. As she reached the front door, she took another deep breath and lifted her fist to knock. Just as her knuckles made contact with the wood, the door sprung open, startling y/n and making her jump.

A petite, dark haired woman, with large, round eyes wearing an equally stunned expression appeared in the opening. Both women chuckled lightly, trying to recover. The dark haired woman smiled, though y/n thought it to be strained, closed the door and made her way past y/n.

Y/n returned her attention to the door but as she lifted her hand to knock, a soft metallic clink from behind her made her turn around. About halfway between her and the retreating woman, lay a set of keys, sparkling in the warm morning sun. Y/n didn’t hesitate to scoop them up off the ground and jog toward the woman.

“Miss! I think you dropped these,” she held out the keyring as she approached the woman, who turned around, relief brightening her pretty features. Y/n glanced at the keys as she handed them off to the woman, and, as if in slow motion, a beam of light reflected off of the shiny metal surface of the rectangular key chain, revealing the last four letters she’d expected to find etched there.

LISA.

Track 12 “What’s Love Got to Do With It?” Coming 12/19/017

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here and the lovely @hannahindie‘s can be found here. Thanks for reading! :)

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